


Requiem

by SpeedyElite



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-07-30 13:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpeedyElite/pseuds/SpeedyElite
Summary: The code of the west is tough, but fair. Always finish what you start. Do what has to be done. When you make a promise, keep it. Remember that some things aren't for sale. And know where to draw the line.In the wild west, the name Hamada is a gun one holds that comes from the skilled hands of a gunsmith that never fails to deliver a successful bullet in the chamber. In the town of Ironstead, Hamada is a set of brothers that craft the finest leathers and guns the west has seen. Such simple crafts can bring a wagon of trouble and when one deal goes sour, the code of the west rears its ugly head. But revenge is just as aggressive and with an outlaw in his debt, the possibilities Hiro sees are endless. // Western AU





	1. Promises Promises

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : Welcome to the Western AU no one asked for, but I am here to deliver ! I have never written a western, but the idea has been in my head for quite some time. This story contains a very small cast of main characters, so I hope you all enjoy the ride. There will be some paranormal elements to this story, so keep a lookout for those. Thank you so much for reading and I appreciate any and all feedback you can throw my way! 
> 
> ( I know the ship doesn't make much sense now, but hopefully, in time, you will all see how dynamic it can be ! )

Mornings were usually quiet, as they had always been in the town, only the subtle sounds of a gentle breeze rustling the dirt road. The small town of Ironstead rose with the sun, skirts ruffling and boots scuffing, dirt rising into the crisp morning before the sun warmed to an unforgiving heat. That morning, however, the sun had been merciless. The heat had already begun to linger between the walls, wood warm to the touch, metal even hotter. Yet, from the heat rose a melody, an echoing tune that floated between bars and glided into the summer heat. The sound was smooth, skilled in its performance, stringing together the song of a bird trapped in a cage. The whistling flooding the street was met with a loud crack, metal vibration causing a rumble to accompany the now interrupted tune. One brown eye cracked open, a brow rising higher as a bleary stare was leveled with one of annoyance.

“Will you kindly shut that mouth o'yours?”  
“Are you threatening me?”  
“Hamada, if you weren't the best gunsmith this side o'town ever saw, you'd be dyin' somewhere in the desert.”  
“I'm gonna assume that was a threat. And I'm not the best on this _side _of town- I am _the _best.”

Hiro Hamada sat upon the bench in his cell, directly under the window, head resting against the warming wood wall. Arms were crossed loosely over his chest, back slouched as his boot heels propped his legs up. With an exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself up to sit straighter, though his posture hadn't improved much from the first place. A hand pulled from its tucked position, knuckle nudging against his ear in an attempt to clear the ringing that often greeted him each morning. Although he wore baggy clothes ( or was simply too thin for the tailor to help it ), he still felt the heat trapping in the fabric.

“You keep talkin', Hamada. See what your brother has to say when he gets here.”  
“Probably the same thing he said _last time _he got here.”

To say he was his family's disappointment was a false assumption. To say he disappointed his family the most, however, was more plausible. For as much of a keen eye as Hiro had for his craft, he also had a tendency to push the boundaries set by law. Compared to his older brother, Hiro was sure the town saw him as a mistake, only useful for his skills and nothing more. For him, the three walls and barred entrance of a cell were more comfortable than they should have been. With a deadpanned expression, he looked beyond the Sheriff standing before his cell, focusing instead on a  _WANTED _ poster pinned to the far wall. What he wouldn't give to saddle up on his horse and ride out of town.

“You listenin', Hamada?”  
“Huh,” Hiro asked, his attention focusing back on the Sheriff, brown gaze meeting a deep green, “Oh, no, not at all. Thanks for askin'.”  
“Your brother best get here soon before I take you out in the street an' tell everyone in town what you did.”  
“My job? Well, _howdy_, Sheriff. Guess I better stay locked away, huh?”  
“You best stop that attitude or I'll-”  
“What? Arrest me again? Keep me here another night?” Hiro scoffed. “Face it, Sheriff. You got two options here. You either let me go when my brother shows up, or you face you and your deputies havin' to go all the way across the mountain range to get shoddy Colts and saddles from the Hart brothers in Timble Town.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, one boot crossing over the other. “Think I know which one you're gonna be pickin'.”

A smug smirk pulled at his chapped lips, eyes practically gleaming with mirth. The Sheriff gave a scoff, slamming his wooden stick against the bars for good measure, before he turned back to his cluttered desk. A troublemaker was he, but with skills in more areas than one. Hiro was quite the quick thinker, leading to a tangle of words that seemed to settle in the perfect knot. Had he committed a crime? According to the lines of the law, yes, he had. Had he paid for it? Spending a night locked behind bars seemed sufficient in his opinion. For all the favors he had done for the town, supplying guns to their local law, saddling horses, shoeing their hooves- had he not earned some form of respectability? Had he not deserved at least a shred of forgiveness? Or was law so unjust that he would never have freedom in his craft? To that, he would rather eat dirt.  
“That's what I thought,” Hiro remarked, knowing well enough he was pushing his luck, but relishing in the fact that he had the last word.  
“Hamada-”  
“Hiro.”

Smugness faded into a deflated expression, the deep voice filling the silence with concern and a stern reprimanding. Hiro groaned and rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back as he listened to the sound of the door closing and familiar boots scuffing the floorboards, eyes closing. The sound of boots came to a halt and Hiro could practically feel the stare directed at him between the bars- even with his eyes closed, he knew how it would look. Brows pinched together, a mixture of disappointment and concern contorting the expression, lips tugged down into that slanted frown his brother wore when he wanted to say something he often kept restrained. With a loud sigh, Hiro relented. Cracking one eye open, just to test his assumption, he found that he had been correct. He huffed through his nose, averting his gaze, knowing well enough that the expression his brother wore was one he had come to hate. It made guilt rise up almost instantly. “Hey, Tadashi.”

“Ain't so talkative now, are you,” the Sheriff asked, leaning over Tadashi's shoulder. Tadashi's expression broke to one of relief upon seeing Hiro all right, his head turning to regard the law with a gentle smile.  
“I'm sorry, Sheriff Doxon,” he said, voice deep with regret, broad shoulders taking on the weight of his brother's mistakes almost effortlessly, “I know he can be a handful. What did he do this time?”  
“I didn't do anything,” Hiro grumbled, arms crossing as he stubbornly looked away. He hated this part- the part where his brother had to bail him out and hand out massive favors- mostly free leather workings like saddles and holsters, but any cut in money meant less for them. Doxon reached out a hand and settled it on Tadashi's shoulder, shaking it slightly.  
“You know I like you boys and all the work you do, but that kid brother o'yours has _gotta _get it together. Sellin' guns to outside law ain't no issue, we can overlook all o'that. But, he's been caught sellin' to outlaws again.” Tadashi groaned and looked back to the cell.  
“Hiro...”  
“Wait a second, he's lying,” Hiro shouted, rising up from the bench, slamming his palm against the bars to make a loud enough noise- to get attention, “He's lying! He never caught me sellin' anything. He just caught me ridin' out past the county line!”  
“With guns.”  
“I'm a _gunsmith_, Doxon, that's what I **do**.”  
“Now I ain't talkin' to you. You best shut it before I come over there-.”  
“Oh, hit me, I dare you to,” Hiro sneered, spitting between the bars into the floorboards below. He pushed himself from the bars and turned his back, arms crossed tight.

Tadashi sighed, shoulders sinking. When they were younger, Hiro had made mistakes, but as he grew older, he seemed to make more and more crucial ones. He felt at a loss at times, unsure of what to say or do with him. Part of him wanted to support his brother's inventive mind, but the other part knew that it could lead him down dangerous roads. He had promised their parents he would take care of him- that he would be the one to see to it that Hiro made it out of the west alive and could safely live in the land they had traveled to. Tadashi stared at Hiro's back, eyes leveling with his hunched shoulders, baggy clothes draped over a skinny frame. When they had stumbled into town, seeking their Aunt, Tadashi had hope for a better future. Yet, Hiro was constantly chasing the path he had desperately pulled them away from.

“I know he's a little ambitious,” Tadashi said, a soft smile forming, “But, my brother means well. He's still learning his place here in town, Sheriff. If you could just give him another chance-.”  
“I ain't given him enough,” Doxon asked, hands propping on the leather bend of his belt, “This is his third arrest in a month, Hamada.”

Eyes closed as Tadashi steeled his nerves. “I know.”  
“Now I'm fine givin' him back to you, but you gotta be aware of what's happenin'. Your brother's got a long record as of right now. 'Course, I can make that go away, but we gotta come up with some kinda bail.” Hiro scoffed, hearing Sheriff Doxon lead the conversation into a more appealing conversation. Sheriff Doxon was a tall man, broad shoulders, nose in the air. He always dressed in his finest uniform and patrolled the town on his well kept horse ( that Hiro always had to take care of, lest his record resurface), and demanded the finest supplies from their work. A posh nancy that deserved nothing but a clot of mud in the face and a boot to the rear. Hiro could think of one hundred reasons why they should elect a new Sheriff, but he could never voice them. Who would ever listen to the town screw up? He turned his head, looking over his shoulder as Tadashi spoke to Doxon, rolling his eyes as his brother gave in _yet again_.   
“Sheriff, if you could just let this one go, I'm sure we can work out somethin'. Surely your horses need new shoes or your deputies need more belts? Rim of your hat's lookin' a little worn.” 

Sheriff Doxon looked over Tadashi's shoulder, staring at Hiro's growing glare, a smug expression on his own face. He got exactly what he wanted and Hiro grit his teeth, brows furrowing.

* * * * * *

Hiro yanked his arm from Sheriff Doxon's grip, scoffing as he stomped out of the jail, footsteps grinding down on the wooden steps. He rubbed his arm, looking away as Tadashi followed, calling back a good farewell to the Sheriff, a smile in his voice. “Stay outta trouble boys,” Sheriff Doxon called in a mocking tone. Hiro whipped around, but was stopped by a strong grip on his arm, Tadashi holding him in place.  
“Hiro-.”  
“He did that on purpose,” Hiro hissed, trying to wrench his arm from his brother's stronger grip, “He did it just to get free stuff from us!” Tadashi released him and Hiro stumbled out into the street, kicking up dirt as he rubbed at his wrist. His brother walked to his right, a sigh leaving him, making Hiro feel worse than he already had. What he wanted to say was sorry, but what came out was a slew of swears and a motion back to the jail.  
“I was just ridin' out there and he wrangled me like some kinda wild cattle. You know I wasn't doin' anything!”  
“Hiro. Please, not now.”  
“Tadashi, you're givin' him more than half of what he needs for nothin'- hey!” A hand shot out, grabbing his wrist, pulling him back from his angry march through the street. Tadashi's grip was firm, but not too harsh- he would never hurt Hiro. Wide eyes stared back at him, lips pressing to a thin line as he shrank beneath the stare of his older brother.  
“If _ you  _ hadn't been caught, none of this would even be happenin',” Tadashi snapped, stern expression solidifying as he glared at his younger brother, “When are you gonna  _ stop  _ this? This is where we live, Hiro.  _ Here _ , in Ironstead, where we build things together. I don't wanna see you plastered up outside the general store on a  _ WANTED  _ poster!”

Hiro's gaze averted, studying the paint-chipped wood of the dry goods storage. Tadashi's fingers tightened around his wrist, but it was more a reassuring squeeze than anything brutal. A sigh filtered from his lips and Hiro felt the muscles in Tadashi's arm relaxing, though his grip still remained. He was only twenty, but Hiro had such a solid track record for seeking out reckless and illegal activities. Tadashi, nearing his thirties, was unsure of how his brother had remained so entangled in the world of outlaws when all he did was see their faces on posters. What stories could he possibly be hearing that signified anything  _ good  _ about people who rode the west, committing crimes and robberies? 

When they were young, they would sneak down from the upper floor of the saloon and watch all the cowboys and travelers interact. Curiosity resided in both of them, but Tadashi had grown to understand that the life of an outlaw was dangerous when they had seen a shootout for the first time. While he had been focused on all the wounded and damage done, Hiro had been fascinated by the gun-spinning outlaw and his rifle slinging bounty hunter. The saloon had gone through a bit of a rebuild since then, allowing more room upstairs and a sturdier frame, but the memories remained. He knew that he hadn't helped stop Hiro's imagination, but how could he have done that to his little brother? Now, staring at him as a young man, Tadashi felt maybe he should have.   
“Hiro, I just want you to be okay,” he said softly, voice shaking from the sudden shift in emotion, “I don't wanna see you get hurt.”  
“I'm not,” Hiro mumbled.

With a tired sigh, Tadashi finally reached forward and pulled his brother closer by the wrist, the other winding around his back to tangle in messy hair, guiding his little brother closer to his embrace. “What am I gonna do with you,” he mumbled, fingers threading through the crow nest. Hiro's eyes closed and he settled closer to him, arms at his sides, unsure of what he should respond with. He knew he had disappointed his older brother more than once and this was most likely just another tick on the floorboard. Face pressed into his shoulder, hands rising to cling to the taller, fingers tightly curled in the fabric of his shirt.  
“You don't always have to bail me out, you know...”  
“You'll always be my brother, Hiro,” Tadashi murmured, trying to offer him reassurance, “And I'm always gonna wanna protect you. But, you're gettin' older and you gotta learn things for yourself. I just hope when the time comes, you make the right choice.”  
“And if I don't?”  
“Then I guess I'll just have to make a few impressive saddles and holsters, huh?” His laugh was low, but sincere and Hiro couldn't help the smile that formed as Tadashi pulled away just enough to ruffle his hair. Hiro had no friends in Ironstead, but if there was one person he could always rely on, it was Tadashi. With another pull, his brother gave him a tight squeeze.  
“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” he said gently.  
“... Sorry about the jail thing, even though it was a set up.”  
“That's- eh. I'll take it.” 

There was a momentary pause before Hiro scoffed, arms pulling away to motion around them.   
“So, we're really just gonna hug it out in the street?”  
“I figure it's embarrassing for you.”  
“Very.” Pulling away, Hiro punched Tadashi's side, forcing him to let him go, a smug expression on his own face.  
“That must have been embarrassing for you,” he sneered in a mocking tone. Tadashi reached out to shove his head, forcing Hiro to stumble forward.  
“Not as embarrassing as that.”  
“I'll fight you in the street,” Hiro threatened, standing straight, brushing his clothes off. He scoffed and looked away as his brother walked alongside him, their trek a little less tense now that things had loosened up. Although the anger at Sheriff Doxon remained in the back of his mind, Hiro had more important things to think about. Doxon had caused quite the interruption in his usual process, causing a delay in delivery of one crafted gun to a very pushy bounty hunter. He kept the information to himself, knowing Tadashi would only grow more and more concerned. Besides, the offer from the bounty hunter was nearly double the amount the hunted outlaw was willing to pay. Choosing the highest bidder, Hiro had promised to meet him between the two towns, near the mountain trail, in two days. That had been before the Sheriff caught him. Now a day behind, Hiro was going to have to find a way to not only leave town unnoticed, but ride faster than he had ever before. 

As they approached their shop, Hiro stopped at the steps. Their horses were chewing from their oat bags, distracted by the morning routine. He couldn't ride his own horse, but if he took his brother's- well, his was always faster anyway. He glanced up at their shop,  _ Guns 'N Leathers  _ plastered across their sign, above that a painted  _ Hamada _ , signifying that it was theirs. He watched Tadashi unlock the door and swing it open, the scent of gunpowder and leather wafting from the dark interior. He enjoyed being a gunsmith, and a leather-smith, but he felt as if there was something missing. Happy as he was with his life, dealing with bounty hunters and outlaws alike had given him a glance into a much more interesting world. His eyes dragged from the front of their dark brown porch to the dirt road, down the long stretch, to the mountain range in the distance, heat waves deceiving them as a mirage. 

“Hiro.”  
“Huh?”

Tadashi had stepped down one step and looked his brother over. With a worried smile, he lifted his hand and settled it on his shoulder. “You okay?”  
“...Tadashi?”  
“Yeah?” Hiro glanced up at his brother, eyes tracing every worry line on his older face. Stress he had caused forming silver strands in otherwise neatly kept black hair. How much distress did he cause his brother and Aunt through the years? How much damage had he done just by dabbling in the illegal? How many times did his Aunt worry and close the saloon early just to pick him up from jail when Tadashi couldn't? Was life in Ironstead really so bad that it was worth putting his family through so much?  
“Hiro?” He blinked and refocused on what he had been wanting to say. “Is something wrong?”  
“I uh, well, I just wanted to...,” Hiro stammered, eyes flicking from his brother down to the wooden deck of their porch. He took a deep breath and let the deal slide in to the back of his mind. Tadashi didn't need to know right now- he would tell him later, after all was said and done. “I just wanted to say thanks. You know, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know what to do. So, yah know, thanks for never givin' up on me.”  
“I never would, little brother,” Tadashi mused, ruffling his hair, seemingly appeased with what Hiro had to say, “C'mon, short stock. Let's get t'work. You're the reason we got a lot!”

Hiro laughed and rolled his eyes, walking into the shop, rolling up his long sleeves. No, Tadashi didn't need to know. He had realized, now, that spending time with his family was enough for him. Life away from Ironstead was ideal, but if Tadashi wasn't going to be there, then nothing would make it worth it. They were a team, two brothers always linked together, and Hiro wouldn't sacrifice that for anything. With a silent promise to Tadashi, and himself, he swore that he would never deal with bounty hunters or outlaws again after his last deal.

  
_ I just have one more deal. Just one. As soon as it's done, I promise, I'll never do it again. We'll be okay. _


	2. One Last Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiro felt dread slowly change to fear, his heart thudding in his chest as he shuddered, fingers curling into the dirt beside his fallen body. A hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head back as a gun barrel pressed to his temple, steady hand forcing neck to crane, eyes staring up at the partially concealed face. Dark eyes stared down at him from beneath the brim of a white hat, Hiro's fear only increasing as he recognized the eyes from the sketched lines of a poster. William Jedd. And if his genius mind wasn't mistaken, the other two must have been part of his pack, rumored to be ruthless in their actions. And William, though Hiro had never spoken directly to him, had been a contender for the gun he'd crafted. Instead, Hiro had chosen to supply Wes, the man hunting Jedd and his gang.  
“We had a deal, Hamada.”  
“You done messed up, boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : Thanks to all who are reading! I am quite excited to pull some action in for this. This chapter contains blood and gore. This chapter took me quite a while to write, so I hope you are all ready for an emotional ride. It was very very hard for me to complete this part of the story, but it is only a step toward the rest. Please bare with me & leave some feedback, if you can! Thank you!

Fingers dexterously turned the leather, fitting it around the fine curve of the thicker rim, pinching together the clasps. Smoothing his rough palm along the embroidered design of curves and spirals, Tadashi brushed away any lingering remnants of sawdust or other bits resting on the saddle. Blowing along the leather, he cleared out the etches, leaving them smooth and prominent against the dark texture. There was something that truly satisfied him about completing a project. He was never quite at rest until the hardest jobs were done. And though their morning had started rough, the brothers had managed to get through the bulk of their work before supper was even a thought in their Aunt's mind. Tadashi brushed off his hands, dipping them in the bucket of fresh water, shaking them out as he made his way to the back of their workshop. Lips pursed as a he let out a quick succession of whistles, mimicking a wild bird, initiating a warning that he was approaching.

Whistling was their main form of communication throughout their small shop. With leathers hanging around and dangerous weapons present, Tadashi had suggested they come up with a form of communication that wasn't as startling as _yelling_. Whistling had been something they had both agreed on, allowing a noise of warning before they rounded a corner, removed bullets, or worked with the sharper cutters. Developing a specific tune for each task in progress, the two had quickly transferred the method out of the shop and into daily life – he knew Hiro to whistle smooth melodies while he was shoeing horses, keeping the animal calm and allowing him focus. As he drew near the table, he let out another quick _fweet, _ensuring Hiro knew he was approaching. Compared to his own work station, Hiro's was a _mess_, but it was more suitable for him.

Traces of Hiro could be found everywhere, but it was within his small corner of the shop that truly showed a personality. _WANTED _posters were plastered to the wall, along with sketches and designs of saddles, holsters, guns and bullets. His work bench was covered with a leather drape, pieces of a gun in progress laid out to dry from their dip. Hiro worked with such a flow that Tadashi was sure if he tried to help, he would interrupt what he called a well-oiled machine. To say that his brother was a genius was an understatement – Tadashi had known that Hiro, from an early age, was smarter than other children. He had been proud of him, and had never stopped being so, though his worry had increased over the years. Hiro had his head bent, hands loosely holding a sleek gun between them, fingers idly tracing the sides. 

“What's that one for?”

Hiro glanced up from his work table, Tadashi's eyes lingering not on him, but the gun in his calloused hands.  
“Did you finish that today?”  
“What- oh. No. I, uh, I finished this one yesterday.”  
“Just for fun?”  
“Had the idea,” Hiro muttered, feeling the need to lie. His eyes lowered to the gun, thumbs brushing over the barrel slowly, running along the etched letters in the sleek, black surface that read _Hamada_. Hiro had been a leather-smith first, but his interest in the wild side of the west had led him to his newfound talent – gunsmith. Not only was he a genius in the design of each one, but the bullets were also crafted by his own hand, each one unique to its own paired gun. His guns were well known in the west, whether he was aware of it or not, and a marvel to behold for outlaws and law alike. But, he had that horrible tendency of causing trouble where it didn't need to be, stirring up disappointment within his family's cooking pot. He had to remind himself that he wasn't going to be making those mistakes any longer- that he was going to finish the job and move on with his life.

“You really _are _amazing, Hiro.”

Brown gaze panned upwards, staring into the set staring back. Now his brother stared at him, a gentle smile on his face, pride in his voice. “I know I always say it, and I know you're tired of hearing it, but you really _do _have a talent for this kind of thing.” Tadashi chuckled at the sour expression forming on Hiro's face.  
“Where'd that come from?”  
“Can't you just take the compliment?”  
“Ain't you ever heard of a loaded statement? That's what you just fired at me.”  
“You don't got much ground to stand on, little brother,” Tadashi mused, shoving Hiro's head down, ruffling his messy hair, tangling strands together. Hiro's hand shot upward and shoved him off, though he seemed to shake his head with amusement. Although he was an adult, Tadashi still found ways to make him _feel _like a little brother- like he was just a _kid_. Maybe he was right, but Hiro was adamant on proving his older brother wrong. For the first time in what seemed like a long time, Hiro was silently making the most mature decision he could- to drop his illegal trading and carry on with the lives they had planned for themselves. Tadashi knocked on his skull, knuckles rapping loudly.  
“It's almost quittin' time. You okay closin' up shop? I promised Aunt Cass I'd start supper early.”

Grip tightened on the gun as the suggestion settled. Hiro was already a day late meeting the bounty hunter and if he failed to show up, he was sure he would be on a _WANTED _poster, whether Tadashi wanted it or not. But, if he chose to leave as soon as Tadashi left the shop, he would gain at least a few hours of sunlight before he was dealing with navigating in the cold dark night. The only trial he faced, however, was getting out of town without anyone spotting him. He could use the leather drape as a blanket for his shoulders, and an old hat from their storage, but his horse was almost recognizable on the spot. The deep brown and black color with the perfect speckles of white spots like constellations across the night sky were unique to his horse and Skymax had a reputation as stained as his own. But, Tadashi's horse was guaranteed to attract the least attention, as Baymax was well behaved, despite his mean streak with Hiro in particular. As the idea formed in his head, wheels turning at just the right pace, he smiled and looked back up to his brother.  
“Oh. Yeah, you go ahead. I'll lock everythin' up and make sure the horses are put up for the night.”

Suspicion made itself visible on Tadashi's face before he relented and reached out to settle a hand on his shoulder. “I'll see you at home, all right?” He offered a smile, hope filling his eyes – hope that his brother would, for once, do the _right _thing. The guilt that rose up made Hiro's chest clench tightly, his smile strained. He wanted to tell Tadashi that he would be late or that he would need to leave town for just a few minutes. In a fleeting moment, Hiro felt the desire to tell his brother the truth. Would Tadashi truly not understand? Would he really struggle to make his only friend and closest family understand what it was he had to do?  
“Yeah, sure thing,” Hiro said, lying straight through his teeth, “Just gonna wrap up this order and get right to it.”  
Tadashi smiled and waved a hand, moving between their work tables, letting out a distinct three pitch whistle. Hiro, head down as he looked over the gun in his hands, returned the whistle in a reverse pattern. He watched Tadashi leave the shop through the curtain of his messy bangs, eyes narrowing as he listened for footsteps to descend down the front porch steps. As soon as only the normal sounds of their town drifted through the front door, Hiro rose from his work table. He leaned to the side, peeking from between the folds of leather, watching Tadashi's form retreat down the road, the dirty window allowing him only the slightest hint that his brother could see him in the shop. Once Tadashi entered the Saloon down the way, however, he quickly closed the front door and began to gather his supplies.

Saddling up Baymax had taken only a few moments, the white horse calm in the stables as he graciously chewed from his oat bag. Hiro tossed the saddle on, fingers moving quickly to secure the straps atop the thin leather drape, coated with a woven blanket. Brushing off the saddle with his hand, he set the reins aside. He had since tucked in his filthy shirt, throwing on an old vest made of their scrapped pile that was loosely sewn together. Hopping on one foot, he shoved his foot into his boot, repeating the gesture for the next. Every now and then, he checked to ensure his brother wasn't on his way back, loading the small saddle bag with a tin case of bullets. Sliding the gun into a custom built holster, he strapped it around his waist, pulling the belt tight. After pulling the bag from Baymax's feeding, he readied the bit and stroked the top of his head. Baymax let out an irritable scuff, shaking his head side to side, a soft whinny sounding. “Easy, easy. Wait a second- Baymax.” Hiro's thumb brushed just under the eye, smoothing along a gray spot, his eyes locking with beady black ones.  
“Please, Baymax,” he said softly, running his palm down the thin white hair along the neck, “I just need you to get me there and back. This is the last time. I _promise_.”  
After a few more coaxing words, Baymax nudged against Hiro with his massive head, showing affection in the only way he could. Hiro smiled and hugged around the neck of the large horse, pulling away as he rounded the side. Hooking his boot into the stirrup, he hoisted himself up and settled on the saddle, grabbing the reins in his calloused hands. “Okay, Baymax. Just like before- straight through town and no stopping.” He wrapped the reins around his knuckles, under his fingers, hands gripping them tightly as he clicked his tongue. The heels of his boots gently nudged the horse's side, easing him out from the stable. He bid Skymax goodbye, reaching out to pat his head before they exited the small corral on the side of their shop.

The streets, though usually busy, were bathed in an essence of momentary peace. Perhaps luck was shining down on him, or perhaps fate had finally recognized his efforts; whatever the reason was for the momentary lull, Hiro thanked his lucky stars and snapped his heels, reins cracking as Baymax let out a whinny, rising up on two legs, hooves kicking the air in a display of sheer force. Powerful legs crashed into the dirt, white horse quickly pushing forward, kicking up a dust trail. Hiro leaned forward, gripping the horn as he steadied himself, eyes quickly flicking to the right. The Saloon was but a smear of wood rushing by, but he could see the silhouette clearly in the doorway. And he knew, as his eyes took in the full sight, that those brown eyes staring back at him were widening with realization. Silhouette moved into the light as a hand grabbed the post, swinging taller body out along the deck, boot scraping the dirt. Hiro looked over his shoulder, staring behind him as he watched the now clear vision of his brother racing further down the street.  
“Don't stop, Baymax,” he shouted, snapping the reins as he urged his brother's horse to run faster, “Keep going!” He turned to face forward, leaving the fences of Ironstead and heading into the open range, urging Baymax to carry on. As horrible as the guilt was, making his chest feel heavy, Hiro had to keep silently reminding himself that this would be the very last time he caused that disappointed look on Tadashi's face.  
_One last time. Just this last time_.

* * * * *

The western range was bathed in the darkness of the night, the stars the only glow among the sheet of indigo above. Navigating with the stars had become something he was accustomed to, having traveled out of the town quite often in secret. Eyes scanned the dark horizon, the seemingly barren land silent aside from the drumming of hooves. He had stopped only once by a watering hole, to feed and allow Baymax a moment of rest. As desperate as he was to reach his destination, he wasn't going to jeopardize the health of his brother's horse. With the melodious wave of a whistle, he eased Baymax into a slower trot as he leaned back against the cantle, feeling a sense of relief come over him. The nights were cold in the west, so the leather drape he had brought along with him was proving quite useful. Eyes squinted as he tried to make out the orange glow in the distance, concluding that it was firelight.  
“Almost there, Baymax.” he muttered, patting the side of Baymax's neck, “We're coming up to the meeting point. Behave around Wes, all right? He's a good guy once you get through to him.”

The orange flame became larger as they drew closer. Hiro whistled a warning, three consecutive sounds, not unlike a cardinal. He pulled the reins as he slowed Baymax, the stocky frame of Wes coming into view. He appeared to be sleeping, hat tugged over his face, arms loosely crossed, boot resting against the opposite knee. Without a reaction to the whistle, Hiro clicked his tongue and pulled Baymax to a stop near the dimming fire. A quick glance around confirmed that not only was Wes unusually silent, but his horse was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he wandered off while Wes slept? Hiro had never known a horse to be so disloyal to their rider before.  
“You know, you shouldn't leave a campfire going while you sleep,” he said in a mirthful tone, arching on his toes in the stirrups, attention back on the other. When he gained no response, Hiro wrinkled his nose and hefted himself from the saddle, stumbling as he landed. He steadied himself, whispering for Baymax to remain in his spot, before he turned to regard the sleeping bounty hunter.  
“Hey, you sleepin' on the job or what?”  
Swinging a boot out, he kicked out the leg supporting the balanced boot, attempting to throw his friend ( was he a friend? He was a customer, that was for sure), off balance. Wes's legs flattened out before him in an almost uncontrolled way, his head not even rising. Hiro's smile, confident and smug, slowly began to fade, lips settling down into a troubled frown. “Wes?” Hesitating for a moment, Hiro curled his hand at his side, the other gripping the holster loosely fitted around his waist. “Wes, if you're playin' a joke on me, you best knock it off before I shoot you.” It was a bluff and he hoped Wes wouldn't call him on it, knowing the man was ten times a better shot than he was. After there was still no reaction, Hiro shifted forward to grab a shoulder, giving a hard shake as he watched the brown hat slide down from his face.  
“All right! Enough games. I ain't got the time for-”

  
Words died in his throat as his hand seemed to tighten on the still shoulder, eyes wide as they traced the trail of red along the man's haggard face. Bruises lined beneath his left eye, blue painting across his cheekbone canvas. Crimson trailed from his nose, caking in the hairs of his stubble, seeping into the cracks of chapped lips. His gaze panned upwards, following the trail up to the gaping hole in the man's forehead. He could never mistake a gunshot wound for anything but what it was. Pulling his hand away, he quickly scrambled backwards, falling back into the dirt. Someone had killed Wes and, despite the fear of knowing he wasn't going to be _paid_, Hiro had the sudden feeling of dread that he knew who it might be. 

  
“Wouldja look at that,” a deep voice sounded behind him, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, “Someone done went and shot Wes clean through the head.” Hiro saw the shadow loom over him, his body frozen in fear, a gloved hand grabbing onto his shoulder with a tight squeeze.  
“You best be givin' over that gun now, Hamada. It was s'posed to be mine in the first place.”  
“Easy now,” a gruff voice responded, “Don't wanna be damagin' the goods. How's he supposed to make more guns with a busted shoulder?”  
“Ain't no need for frettin'. After this, he ain't gonna be makin' guns for no one else but us.”

  
Hiro felt dread slowly change to _fear_, his heart thudding in his chest as he shuddered, fingers curling into the dirt beside his fallen body. A hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head back as a gun barrel pressed to his temple, steady hand forcing neck to crane, eyes staring up at the partially concealed face. Dark eyes stared down at him from beneath the brim of a white hat, Hiro's fear only increasing as he recognized the eyes from the sketched lines of a poster. _William Jedd. _And if his genius mind wasn't mistaken, the other two must have been part of his pack, rumored to be ruthless in their actions. And William, though Hiro had never spoken directly **to **him, _had _been a contender for the gun he'd crafted. Instead, Hiro had chosen to supply Wes, the man hunting Jedd and his gang.   
“We had a deal, Hamada.”  
“You done messed up, boy.”

* * * * *

Tadashi rode through the barren terrain, searching for his horse or any sign of his brother in the open range. He had followed the trail Baymax's hooves had left, but with the wind beginning to pick up, the dirt was beginning to disturb the prints, leaving Tadashi to guess. He squinted, trying to see into the distance, Skymax restless as he stomped his hooves in place. “I know, I know,” he said reassuringly, reaching down to brush his hand through the hair, “Easy, boy. We're gonna find him. Just gotta get my bearings.” With a gentle pat to the neck, Skymax huffed and began to trot forward once more. He was growing increasingly worried, knowing that Hiro was most likely dealing with an outlaw or someone equally dangerous. Part of him wanted to be angry and disappointed, but another part of him simply wanted to see him safe.

Safety was cut out of the list of possibilities when he saw flashes of light, the resounding sound of a gun being fired echoing in the distance. Tadashi felt a drop in his stomach, as if a pit had opened up and swallowed everything whole, leaving him feeling the chill of dread. Between the echoing bangs, he could hear the unmistakable sound of whistling and a voice screaming to _run_. Something white was emerging from the left, cutting across the terrain like a wild beast, kicking up the dirt in a dark cloud. Tadashi pulled Skymax back just in time to see his horse running, though there was no rider on his saddle.  
“Get back here!”  
“Forget the horse- bring me that kid!”  
“Don't let 'im get back to town!”  
Voices began to grow louder, words becoming clearer. Tadashi's eyes scanned the distance, making out the barely visible silhouettes of men on their horses. He squinted, trying to see better, as if he could spot his short brother from the chaos erupting and splitting across his left. He heard another whistle, closer now than before, Hiro's voice the only one he registered over the uproar. Tadashi pulled the reins and snapped his heels against Skymax's sides, letting out a loud _h'yah_. He kept his eyes locked on the outline he now confirmed was his brother, riding adjacent to him as he guided the horse closer and closer to him, ducking down as the sounds of more gunshots rang across the dark land. As he became clearer, Hiro's expression looked more and more distressed. Tadashi rode closer, tangling the reins in one hand as he bent to the right, dipping to hold out his arm.  
“Hiro! Grab on!”  
“Tadashi!”

Hiro's hand grabbed his forearm and Tadashi hoisted his brother up with effort, Skymax still running, Hiro struggling to plant his foot in the occupied stirrup. Though it took some effort, Hiro managed to throw himself onto the saddle in front of his brother. The first thing Tadashi did, aside from ensure his little brother wouldn't fall, was smack him upside the head three times.   
“What is wrong with you,” he shouted, snapping his heels, urging Skymax to ride faster as he ignored Hiro's mocking cries of pain, “Didn't you learn anythin' today?”  
“Yeah,” Hiro shouted, turning to look at Tadashi with a shaky smile, despite his fear, “Don't make deals with two people at once!”  
“Hiro, that has nothing to do with-”  
“ _ Hamada _ !”

Tadashi ducked down as he heard the sound of gunshots, pushing Hiro down as they continued to ride across the plains, pulling the reins to guide Skymax right, then left, zagging through the dirt.   
“Can we argue after we're not getting shot at,” Hiro muttered, sitting up as Tadashi did.  
“You're gonna be arguin' with me for years, Hiro.” More gunshots rang out, all three men shooting at them as they rode, the thundering sound of collective hooves roaring behind them. Tadashi shifted his body, using his broad shoulders to shield Hiro from behind, arms resting over the shorter shoulders, trying to protect him as much as he could.“Did you really have to go and irritate a whole gang?”  
“It ain't my fault- I mean, at least I was sellin' to the bounty hunter and not the outlaws!”  
“That's not much better, Hiro! I swear, you ain't gonna be satisfied 'til we're both-” 

The gunshot was louder this time, a terrible pain tearing through his sternum's right, breaking through muscle and bone at a rapid speed. Hiro's cry of pain pierced harder than any bullet and he nearly panicked as Hiro slumped forward, choking out his name. Tadashi gasped, moving his arm down to wrap around his brother's shoulder, a hand pressing against the wet spot on his shoulder. His grip on the reins slipped, his attention seemingly focused solely on the injury. “Hiro- hold on!” He could taste blood on his tongue, his arm growing warm as he felt liquid running down its curved position, soaking into his shirt. Skymax was running as fast as he could, and yet Tadashi still tried to succeed in escape. It was getting harder for him to breathe, however, and he had trouble seeing clearly.   
“Tadashi,” Hiro called, trying to take the reins from his limp hand, “Let me-”  
With a loud whoop, the gang seemed to catch up, a hand reaching out to grab hold of the reins Tadashi held. A good, rough yank to the reins misdirected Skymax to the left and a heavy boot collided with the horse on the opposite side.  
“ _ Gotcha _ .”

Skymax whinnied as he teetered, stumbling over his running legs, falling onto his side, pinning the two brothers beneath his heavy weight. Hiro screamed out in pain, his leg feeling crushed as they landed, Tadashi's arm tightening around him, his pain wheezed between clenched teeth, collar bone feeling shattered from the impact alone. Blood splattered across his lips as he coughed, dirt dusting up between their fallen forms.  
“T-Tadashi-”  
“It's okay, Hiro. Everything's okay. J-Just give me a minute.”  
“Y-You're hurt...”  
“Doesn't hurt so bad.” His smile was audible in his voice, though it was shaking with pain and fear, and Hiro couldn't help the distressed sob that choked from his throat. This was all his fault- everything was _always _his fault.  
“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled.  
“We... we can talk about it b-back home.”  
As Skymax scrambled to rise onto his legs, Tadashi reached around and pulled Hiro closer, trying to protect him from the looming threat. Hiro, between gasping breaths, twisted himself onto his back, his brother's arm draped over his shoulders.

Shadows circled them like hungry vultures, stopping only when William demanded it. Skymax's whinnies were loud, hooves stomping as the other two attempted to wrangle him, yanking at reins. Hiro wanted to protest, but his vision was soon consumed by the towering figure above them.  
“You couldn't make it easy, could yah, boy?”  
“S-Stop. You have the gun. What else do you want?”  
“We had a deal, boy.” The sound of his own crafted weapon loading caused a chill in his spine and Hiro cringed, "I wanna teach a lesson." He stared down the barrel he had spent hours making, crafting to perfection, with the intent of taking down any outlaw Wes desired. He had once admired the piece, pride a present feeling as he proclaimed it to be his _ best  _ design yet. Now, however, he stared in fear as a steady hand held it against him. The gunshot rang loud, cutting through the tense silence. He blinked through tears forming from the stinging pain in his body, his vision blurring, but not before he saw the clear vision of his brother. 

Tadashi had forced himself to move, a forearm laid by his brother's head, shoulders hunched as he blocked the shot with his own body, the bullet impaling the ground just beside Hiro's ear. Blood soaked his shirt, rivulets of red forming at the edge of his lips, breaths ragged. Despite the horror of it all, however, Tadashi looked down at his brother with a gentle smile- always so gentle and kind, brave to a fault. Hiro stared up at him with wide eyes, locking his gaze with his older brother. That smile was bittersweet, like a goodbye that was come too soon. Tadashi had always been a protector and, though they were adults now, Hiro would never see him as anything else but his guardian.

  
___“Let's get outta here, Jedd.”_  
_“You shot the wrong one!”_  
_“Take th'horse and go. I'll meet yah at the spot.”_

  
“T-Tadashi-”  
“P-Promise me... when the time comes, y-you'll make the right choice,” Tadashi choked out, tears dripping down from his eyes, droplets landing upon the bloodstained skin of Hiro's face, before he sank down. Hiro's hands shook as they slowly rose, curling into blood stained fabric, the pain of his body ignored.  
“Tadashi...?” Silence answered him and, with his brother covering him, Hiro could feel the labored breathing becoming nothing but the wind in the plains, the sound of hooves fading into the distance. “Tadashi- Tadashi, answer me. Tadashi!” Shaking did no good- nothing stirred his brother. Nothing opened his eyes, nothing made him breathe. He hugged Tadashi's body close to himself, tears spilling down his bloodstained cheeks, sobs choking out.

And in the silence of the now quiet night, Hiro screamed in agony.


End file.
